In The Seances That I Cannot Understand Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Doing all of this while the girls are making love
In churches,
In cars, along the stairwells of their science museums, their
Apartment buildings:
I see girls making love in the dark pressed to grills:
Girls who would have wanted all of this, if it wasn’t from me:
The rains grow quiet and listen to girls:
My aunts listen to girls, and graveyards fill with the sad talk
And lips that these girls once knew
And had;
And I am up on my fire tower too high to feel the reasons why the girls
Move back and forth in their plentitudes,
Almost too high to prove a reason for breath, smelling the perfumes
Of these girls, their wild fires pulling up the hills
In the séances that I cannot understand all around me.